Blackout

My buddy Mr Nights left town and moved to Vegas.

Astonishing.

People actually live in Vegas? You mean not everyone there walks up and down the Strip drinking from open containers dreaming of three buck prime rib and endless winning hands of twenty-one?

People have jobs and work in SinTown?

Apart from losing a drinking mate, I've lost a portion of my memory. One unfortunate quality of drinking - okay, excessive drinking - is that one can lose time. Cleaning out my car over the weekend, I found a business card; a card I think belongs to a woman I chatted up with Nights one night, slightly under the influence.

It's bothersome this blackout thing, because I so rarely overindulge, and when it does happen, it seems I meet the most enthusiastic women. They're sufficiently enthusiastic to give me their business card with a cellphone number hand-written on the blank side too.

I remember the beginning of the night. Working from before dawn, I'd joined Mr Nights for HH drinks at five, making the rookie mistake of not partaking, snackwise. We pushed on to a steakhouse bar, looking for professional ladies similarly on the prowl. (That would be bankers, lawyers, accountants, not the other kind of professional you perv.)

Naturally that didn't quite work, but the next bar did, coinciding with my alcoholic amnesia.

Drat.

The problem now is that I have this card, with a phone number (an enthusiastic phone number) and no way to dial it. Not only did I chat up a decent-looking woman (this according to Mr Nights) but I met his ex-wife...and have no memory of it.

Double Drat.

I feel like a drink.


Bottoms Up, What Happens in Vegas Everyone Knows Abouters!

Photo of woman from here [link]